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COPVRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



-^K 



Copyright, 1911, by 
William Chase Greene 



[Privately Printed] 



CI.A305290 




PATEI MATEIQUE 

HESE lines to you may haply bring 
But surfeit of a gracious thing; 

Why should poor I presume to write 

For you, who con at your delight 
Poets that sang to many a king? 

Not through the hope of fashioning 
A charm to break their magic ring 
Am I emboldened to indite 
These lines to you. 

We laughed together with the spring, 

The lark that pulsed on morning wing; 1 

You cheered me in the gloom of night, 

You pointed to the beacon-light: 
Pray, will you pardon if I sing / 1 

These lines to you? 



Nearly all of the following poems have been 
published in the Harvard Advocate, the Harvard 
Monthly, and the Harvard Lampoon; a few are 
now printed for the first time. They are a selec- 
tion from poems written, — all but the last two 
in Part One, — ^between the ages of fifteen and 
twenty, and are printed very nearly in the order 
in which they were written. They are now pri- 
vately printed, or reprinted, by request, for 
relatives and friends who have hitherto had little 
or no opportunity to see them. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

A Misty Moening Kide 12 

School Ode 13 

Fbom a Mountain Peak 14 

Beyond 15 

Reconciliation 18 

Mutatis Mutandis 22 

At Twilight . 24 

Will o' the Wisp 27 

To William Mgeris 28 

The Palace of Silence 32 

Concerning Libraries 34 

The Iconoclast 36 

Fragment of Phi Beta Kappa Poem . . 38 

Vignettes, 1 40 

II . 41 

Song 42 

Class Ode 44 

For a Silver Wedding 45 



7 



sPAGE 

A Steamer-Lettee 49 

Sonnets 

The Suef at Chatham .... 11 

Love and Fate 20 

Te Moeituei Saltjtamus ... 43 

From the French of Eonsard ... 54 

Rondeaus 

Patri Matrique 3 

The Blind Beggar 17 

To a Daughter of Wall Street . . 21 

Epilogue 29 

A Defence of Poesy .... 31 
My Window-Box . . . . .35 

Rondel 

At the Sign of the Tankard . . 23 

Quatrains 

The Star-Gazers 16 

On a Pearl Shell 19 

Spring Snows . . . ' . . . 30 



II. 

Tbanslations 
Feom the Fbench 



PAGE 



Ecstasy: Victor Hugo .... 53 

Sonnet: Bonsard 54 

Feom the Latin of Horace 

To Leuconoe : Odes I, II . . . 55 

Palinode: Odes, I, 16 .... 56 

To Asteeie: Odes III, 7 ... 58 

To Estelle: " " (Another Version) 58 

To a Jar of Wine: Odes, III, 21 . , 62 

To THE EOMAN PEOPLE: EPODE XVI . . 64 



The Surf at Chatham 



THE SUEF AT CHATHAM 

^^^gHE breakers pound upon the yellow 
strand, 
The stony shore is moist with dashing 
spray, 

The frothy waves make sport like lambs at play, 
And turbid billows roll with seething sand. 
I hear the ocean's roar on every hand, 

And watch the ceaseless sweep along the bay; 

I see the dark green watery masses sway. 
And surge, and unrelenting rush to land. 
Above the combing crests I see on high. 

Swift soaring o'er the smiling, treacherous deep, 
The screaming gulls on snowy pinions fly. 

And hover o'er the massive billows steep. 
So all along the bending coast there lie 

The waves that still in constant motion keep. 




A Misty Morning Ride 



A MISTY MOEMNG EIDE 

EIDE where varying landscapes meet 

my view, 
Past lofty wooded hills and marshy fens ; 
Here, furrowed fields all drenched with sparkling 
dew, 
And in the haze lie dark secluded glens. 

Beside the gray road silver birches stand, 
And bristling spruces, pines, and poplars tall. 

Far in the distance elms form arches grand. 
Like columns in a dim and ancient hall. 

And now a bridge of stone is leaping o^er 
A smooth bright sheet of water, on whose edge 

The willows growing on the rushy shore 

Cast dark reflections from their beds of sedge. 

I speed along past fields all overgrown 
By golden-rod and asters without end. 

But now I've passed a long gray wall of stone, 
And waiting for me here I find my friend. 



12 



School Ode 




SCHOOL ODE : 

BAR School, the scene of happy boyhood | 

days, 
No longer shall we walk thy pleasant , 

ways. ^ 

Many a daily task we here have learned, | 

And perseverance the reward has earned. 

O'er Homer's eloquence and Euclid's lore ', 

We pondered long in happy days of yore; [i 

We threw the whirling ball in yonder field, 
And there were wont the ringing bat to wield. 

But now from thee we turn our steps away I 

In sterner tasks to do the best we may. 

Yet in the years to come we'll ne'er forget | 

The lofty standards that our masters set. I 

Oh ! may we ever through our daily life, i 

Amid the roaring din of toil and strife, 

Whate'er our fortune, low or high in fame. 

Bring naught but honor to thy much-lov'd name. I 



13 



From a Mountain Peak 



FROM A MOUNTAIN PEAK 



^~'^^ HE hoary mountains loom up in a chain 
As endless as the sea; and yet again 
Beyond them, others, massive, huge, 
and grand. 

The venerable monarchs of the land. 

All dim, and pale, and ominous they are, 
Like oracles that prophesy afar; 
They fade away, till scarce the eye can see 
Where end the hills, and where the clouds may be. 



14 



Beyond 



BEYOND 

0, I am King ! " The crowned monarch 
cried. 
And grasped his golden sceptre in his 
hand; 
The multitude with low submission vied 
In honoring the sovereign of the land. 

High on a mountain crag an eagle screamed; 

Landward the roaring surf unceasing ran ; 
Through pearly clouds the golden sunset gleamed ; 

A meteor flashed through space, — and mocked 
at man! 




15 



The Star-Gazers 



THE STAR-GAZERS 

HE sages gather from the heavenly host 
Their learned lore; two heavenly stars 

alone 

Suffice to tell me that thou art my own ; 
Ah ! which, the sage or I, can read the most ? 




16 



The Blind Beggar 



THE BLIND BEGGAE 

N sou, m'sieur? ayez pitie 

Du pauvre aveuglel" Yes, it is lie, 
The little man with snow-white hair, 
Still sitting in his broken chair 
Beside the church of Sainte Marie. 



The ragged children climb his knee 
Where once their fathers played in glee; 
They know him with his plaintive prayer, 
" Un sou, wfsieur ? " 

The passers-by pause at his plea. 

And coppers jingle merrily. 

At night-fall home he steals, and there 

His eyes pop open, free from care. 

— To-morrow it's ayez pitie, 

" Un sou, m'sieur f " 



17 



Reconciliation 



EECONCILIATIOK 



Ille. 




OME, strive we lightly to forget, 
And on the desert fling away 
The ashes of wronged yesterday; 
What boots the grief of vain regret? 

Haec. 

Who knows to-morrow may not prove 
Another yesterday? Not vain 
Call thou regret forestalling pain, 
The seeing eyes of blinded Love. 

Ille. 

Then sow the ashes in rich soil, 
And let onr tears renew the seed. 
Care shall destroy the warring weed; 
Again the rose may bless our toil. 

Haec. 

Ah! say but so, and though distress 
Hath marred the roses of the past. 
Perchance the rose will bloom at last 
Perfect in all, no more, no less. 

18 



On a Pearl Shell 



ON A PEAEL SHELL 

HEN from the dunes of yellow rippled 
sand 
I lift thee, feel thy smooth round form, 
and see 
The myriad iridescent lights in thee, 
I find infinity within my hand. 






19 



Love and Fate 



LOVE AND FATE 

OVE, when I ponder on that last sad day 
Of all this saddened world, when Lifers 
old fire 

Shall pale and for eternity expire; 
When aeons shall have spun themselves away, 
And on a cold and tideless earth no ray 
Of light shall fall; when Being shall retire 
Wearily to its rest, and Heart's Desire 
And all Man's works shall crumble to decay; 
And when I grieve that with Man's fleeting breath, 

Life will become as one that ne'er was born. 
And Death, and Love thrice stronger than strong 
Death ; 
Ah ! then within me I can feel the dawn 
Of all the perfect Law of Love, that saith, 

" For Love's own sake love ever, ye that mourn". 



20 



To a Daughter of Wall Street 




TO A DAUGHTER OF WALL STREET 

MAID of millions, what if thou 
Dost lack a lofty brow, 
A laughing eye, a lovely face, 
A figure moving full of grace? 
For thou hast treasures good enow. 
The fruit plucked once from golden bough, 
But fast secured in coffers now. 

And soft pearls, silks, and antique lace, 
maid of millions. 

To pedigree its claims allow. 

And let its votaries humbly bow. 
But on a field or's shining space 
For me a check-book rampant trace; 

There's heraldry enough, I trow, 
made of millions! 



21 



Mutatis Mutandis 




MUTATIS MUTANDIS 

HE caliph Al-zamar by his tent 

Sat watching with lazy half-closed eye 
The far-ofi camels creeping by, 
Bringing the treasures of Orient. 
A low voice sang near Al-zamar. 

" Fair is my love as the tender vine ; 
Sweet is my love as the ruddy wine; 
True is my love as the deathless star.'' 

"Hither, my son/' he said, and when 

The youth had come, he pondered a while ; 

On those thin, bearded lips a smile 
Flickered and faded. Said he then 
" My son, a maiden's heart ne'er trust. 

For he alone is wise who fears 

Her glance." — The sands of a thousand years 
Sift over the keen-eyed caliph's dust. 



22 




At the Sign of the Tankard 



AT THE SIGN OF THE TANKAED 

H! Life is a tavern beside the road, 
And many the guests that sojourn there, 
Tripping adown the valley fair. 
To linger awhile in its sweet abode. 

One spring morn, scarce the cock has crowed 
Eor lodging the little god Love makes prayer; 
For Life is a tavern beside the road. 
And many the guests that sojourn there. 

Make way for the little god quivered and bowed; 

The best of the house make haste to prepare, — 

Unless the yawning larder is bare. 

And far too freely the wine has flowed; ^^ 

For Life is a tavern beside the road. 

And many the guests that sojourn there. 




At Twilight 



AT TWILIGHT 

The Old Painter speaks 

AY, I was hasty; pray forgive the word, 
For weary is my heart to-night, dear lad. 
Only thy thoughtful deep brown eyes 
have known 
How long my trembling brush hath toiled across 
That little space of light and shade. But there 
It stands at last, painted for all the years. 
Dear lad, come sit with me, we two alone. 
Ere the sun sinks beyond the rim of night. 

We love that picture, do we not, and feel 
A spirit in that face that lives and speaks? 
Hark, lad! to-morrow's garish light will see 
The world's cold heavy hands laid on my work. 
My Lady will rustle in and raise her glass. 
And, with a sadly deprecating air. 
Murmur the color soon will fade, she fears; 
The hand is graceful, but ah! such drapery! 
My Lord will hobble in, lean on his cane. 
And with a broad sweep of his hand suggest 
The composition might be better planned, 

24 



At Twilight 

And querulously add lie hates such grays. 
Ha ! could they understand how long I toiled 
And lay awake o' summer nights to catch 
The subtle light that glows within the eyes. 

Well, I have lived and striven somewhat more 
In years than they, and somewhat deeper drunk 
Of that keen life they know not. I have stood 
High on a mountain cliff before the day, 
The hushed air biting sharply on my cheek, 
And watched the stars pale one by one, and then 
My soul hath stormed the kingdom of the dawn, 
Filling the silent spaces with its voice. 
And I have wandered in the forest brakes. 
Brushing aside the leafy close of ferns, 
While fairy voices whispered in my ears. 
And I have drunk the burning wine of love. 
And lingered long within a full-blown garden. 
Bending my ear to catch the gentle fall 
Of well-known foot-steps. Yes, and I have known 
The pain of love, the first tumultuous pangs. 
And the long years of solemn emptiness. 
Ye who have felt it all, have ye not known 
The bidding of the yearning voice that cried 
Within me? Nay, I could not choke it down, 
And so I painted, set in pigments forth 
The very substance of my inner soul. 
25 



At Twilight 

What, lad! still here? ^Tis time you were abed; 
Go, leave me now, and I will sit alone 
Beside the open window for a while, 
Here where the jasmine-laden air strikes through 
The casement, and the ivy's tender leaf 
Flutters and dances to the gentle wind. 
The moon swings full and very fair to-night. 
White as the level wastes of winter snow, 
Breathing a blessing on the sleeping earth; 
The very flowers are asleep, I think. 
Was that a fire-fly that glimmered there 
Among the vines ? The shaggy thick-stemmed oak 
Sways with a rustle of long trailing robes. 
My picture seems so petty now; perchance 
The world is right, and all my visions are 
As chafl, driven across the threshing-floor. 
Then what of us poor toilers? Is it all 
A shadow-fight that we have waged so long? 
Then shadow-fighters, dreamers, what you will, 
'Tis we who best have showed the world to read 
God's last great fecit writ across the sky. 

Well, there the moon is setting, and to-day 
Is sealed away forever. Yet who knows? 
To-morrow, and mayhap the world shall see 
My brush send forth some great and deathless 

work. 
{Breaming, he falls asleep. So they find him.) 




Will 0' the Wisp 



WILL 0' THE WISP 

OT for the songs I've sung to thee. 
My princess, do I ask thy heart; 
Ah ! that were simple charity. 
But useless is my puny art 
To catch the mocking sprite that stole 
From me the message of my soul. 

Canst thon not see in one fair rose 
The magic gardens of the West, 
Hear, when the sea-wind softly blows, 
Voices from Islands of the Blest? 
Then take my songs, and in them hear 
The echoes of a song more clear. 



27 



To William Morris 



TO WILLIAM MOERIS 

OW hangs the moon above the hard white 
road. 
The heavy-fingered wind oft tries the 
door. 
We travelers, aweary of our load, 
Sit near the tavern fire's cheery roar, 
Fpon the withered rushes of the floor; 
And thou dost sing an ever-changing lay, 
Thou idle singer of an empty day. 

We hear the lilt of maiden voices sweet. 

The dim dream-whisper of some woodland spring; 

We see lithe Atalanta's flying feet. 

The pageantry of heroes triumphing; 

And for the light-winged songs that thou dost sing, 

We poor way-farers cry, " God bless for aye 

The idle singer of an empty day." 



28 



Epilogue 




EPILOGUE 

HE curtain falls; your laughing eye 
No longer mocks me, arch and sly; 
jN'o longer merry like the wren 
Echoing in applause again, 
Your rippling voice rings clear and high. 
The roguish smiles that tears belie 
(No actress you, so gay to die) 

They, too, are now beyond my ken, — 
The curtain falls. 

Ah yes! beneath a smnmer sky 
You live, without a pain or sigh. 

But mirth must end; and can you then 

Be ever sunny even when 
At Prompter's call, you know not why, 
The curtain falls? 



29 



spring Snows 



SPRING SKOWS 



I 



UT yesterday all spring was singing at 
my ears, 



^E^ And now the winter snows sweep over 
moor and fen. 
Love, shonld our spring become a winter's 
day again, 
Can we not bnild a dream-spring lasting throngh 
the years? 



30 



A Defense of Poesy 



A DEFEI^SE OF POESY 

DEOP of ink, some paper, pen, 
And now 111 turn to verse again; 
A poet's not a poet till 



Compelled by circumstance to fill 
A little measure, now and then. 

A subject? — Ah! why bother when 
The verse trips onward thus? Wise men 
Write massive tomes that only spill 
A drop of ink. 

Nine lines are done, and this makes ten; 

A few lines more, and in my ken 

The goal will come. Why, verse is nil, 
As easy as to roll down hill! 

For you need only, gentlemen, 
A drop of ink ! 



31 




The Palace of Silence 



THE PALACE OF SILENCE 

HE stands aloof among far-distant hills, 
Where stately poplars march to storm 
the sky, 

And only the languorous breath of Zephyr fills 
The fragrant garth and cedarn groves hard by. 
No bruit of war or din of clamoring mart 

Comes near her portals and no runner flies 
Hot-breathed, with aching and o'er-burdened heart 
Through poppied fields, and bitter tidings cries. 

No fairer roses e'er awoke than those 

That shyly steal across her sheer white walls; 
And fairer none the fount than yon that throws 

Its tinkling silver o'er the court, — it falls 
On drowsy goldfish, and green mossy stone. 

Shimmering peacocks, standing Argus-eyed, 
Gaze mutely vigilant; the ringdoves' moan 

Hums echo-faint, as when a song hath died. 

Forgotten are the hands that wrought of old 

These twining arabesques, and stilled the feet 
That paced these flags, — ^but be ye not too bold ; 
For when on summer's eve through meadows 
sweet 

32 



The Palace of Silence 

The bees fly home, in far-ofi chamber falls 
Low sound of Intes and voices on the ear. 

Then trailing shadows flit through darkening halls ; 
A laugh, a whisper, and they disappear. 



33 




Concerning Libraries 



CONCERNIIsrG LIBRAEIES 

FIVE-FOOT shelf is very well, 

If that is what one most desires; 
For in a little space may dwell 
The wisdom that a sage inspires. 
Oh, yes, he well may pride himself 
Who owns a learned five-foot shelf. 

Bnt when I meet you at the dance, 
I count myself tenfold more wise; 

For I read volumes with a glance 
Into your laughing, roguish eyes. 

And when I hear your dresses swirl, 
I rather like a five-foot girl. 



34 




My Window-Box 



MY WINDOW-BOX 

Y window-box has charmed flowers, 
That well beguile the suminer hours, 
For high above the dusty street, 
She breathes a fragrance cool and sweet. 
That brings me back my wilted powers. 
'Tis but a shy primrose that cowers 
Amid the leaves; a daisy towers. 
The sentinel of the retreat. 
My window-box. 

But when the sky with storm-wind glowers. 
And streets are mud with sudden showers, 

I sit upon my window-seat, 

The busy world stretched at my feet, — 
It melts before the wealth that dowers 
My window-box. 



35 



The Iconoclast 




THE ICOIsrOCLAST 

ND so we smote the bolted oaken doors, 
And hurled them shattered into splin- 
ters down. 

Do you remember, Dickon? And we burst 
Into the long dark church, that seemed to reek 
With incense rising from a score of censers, 
A myriad lights that swam before mine eyes. 
The priests were huddled in a trembling mass. 
Telling their beads with mumbled orisons. 
Like sheep that cower when the wolf is nigh. 
Still can I see their palsied, shaven heads. 
And hear their whining, stricken voices drone. 
We scorned to touch them; why should they be 

slain. 
When we were thus on our high purpose bent? 
So you and I pressed forward, stumbled up 
The altar-steps, and laid about us straight. 
Snow-white the tapers, tipped with living flame, 
Gleamed tall before us; gold and silver sheen, 
The pilfered meat of God^s own starving poor. 
Stood on the broidered handiwork of queens. 
We tore their cursed trappings down, and cast 
Them on the granite floor. There yet remained 
36 



The Iconoclast 

One single image, carved with cunning art, 
The Mary whom the priests beseech in prayer. 
I spoke to save it; but you laughed, and struck 
With one great crashing blow her head to dust. 
I closed my eyes ; ah ! God, but she was fair ! 
The tapers smoked upon the cold gray floor; 
We spurned them as we hurried back again, 
And while we ran, all through the vaulted aisles 
Our hastening foosteps echoed strangely loud. 
Oh, Dickon, did you hear the awful voice 
That sobbed and shrieked about my ringing ears? 
You heard it not? Oh, phantoms, phantoms!— 

Nay! 
Dickon, I feel it like a haunting shade; 
Forgive me, Dickon, for I know; — ^we sinned! 



37 



Fragment of Phi Beta Kappa Poem 



FEAGME^-T OF PHI BETA KAPPA POEM 

Delivered at the Undergraduate Dinner 
May 6, 1910 

{After some forty lines of personal banter and satire 
on pedantry: — ) 



EAK is the frame of Man^s body, 

And mighty the strength of the beast, 
And of all the frail children of Nature 



Mankind is her last and her least, — 
Least in the strength of his sinews, 

To battle the seas and the wind, 
Bnt made free by the passionate longing 

That kindles the fetterless Mind. 
We have sent forth onr ships on the ocean. 

Encircling the earth by onr might; 
We have ventured to ride on the tempest. 

And bridled the gale for our flight. 
And our poets have sung for our pleasure 

Their strong-hearted ballads and lays. 
In the glorious wealth of our freedom. 

The triumph of arduous days, 
With a laugh that re-echoes our laughter. 

And tears where we earthlings must grieve. 



38 



Fragment of Phi Beta Kappa Poem 

In the faith that our own generation 

The task cannot wholly achieve. 
And what of the army of scholars? 

Shall they shirk and retreat from the van, 
With a plea that they labor for learning, 

And not in the service of man? 
Let them heed the great words that they honor, 

N'ot disdainful of toil or of strife; 
Let them find in philosophy's bidding 

The vigilant guide of their life. 

Invincible spirit of Adam, 

Undaunted by pain and by death, 
Mocking the voice of the thunder. 

To harness his terrible breath, — 
Childlike the fear and the tremor 

That shudders when hurricanes blow, 
CTodlike the pulse of creation 

That quickened mankind long ago. 
So did Prometheus bring earthward 

The heavenly blessing of fire; 
So did Beethoven and Shakespeare 

Enkindle our hearts to aspire; 
So shall our vision of wisdom, 

Eedeemed from the stain of the sod. 
Turn by a new incarnation 

The freedom of Man into God! 

39 



Vignettes 



VIGNETTES 

I. 

TEA: the hostess suavely circumspect, 
Three score of ladies, and a score of 
men; 

A well-bred hum of smiling platitudes; 
The day "just lovely, — ^but so hot, my dear/' 
Soft click of cups, and whir of fevered fans; 
Eau de Cologne and orchids; faint, the mild 
Remonstrance of a weary orchestra; 
The drowsy nod of boredom, — four to six. 



^^^ 



40 



Vignettes 




II. 



VEE the dunes the flute-sweet breath of 
day 
Late lingers in the grasses: milk-white 



Of rippled sand sweep toward the northern hills. 
Under a brooding sky the surf runs in 
Swelling and fallings falling and swelling, strong 
As passion in the heart. Through drifting fog, 
Pendulous in the riven veil of night, 
High swings the crescent moon. 



41 




Song 



SONG 

HEN we were young, what glory lay 
Within the all too fleeting hours 
Of one sweet-flowing snmnier^s day ! 
We feared lest we should pluck its flowers 
Too soon, and they should all be flung 
Upon the grass when we were young. 

What foolish fears ! The flowers blow 

Lovelier than they seemed of yore; 

And they have charmed the winter's snow 

To fall more gently than before. 

Why did we tremble at the years, 

That were our friends ? What foolish fears ! 

When we are old, do you not think 
The summer's day will dawn more sweet? 
That we shall then more deeply drink 
Of springs that lay beneath our feet 
Ere now scarce tasted? Tales half -told 
Shall we not tell, — when we are old? 



42 



Te Morituri Salutamus 



te 







TE MOKITUEI SALUTAMUS 

ND if thy angel Death, Lord, must end 
This phantom-shadowed fragment of a 

dream, 

Grant that he come while yet our battles 
seem 
In some great cause our dearest blood to spend; 
Grant us thy pitying Messenger to send 
While yet our swords in fierce encounter gleam, 
While yet our snowy banners forward stream, 
And shrill the shouts of victory ascend. 

Then in the surging riot of rich life. 

While through the dusk the beacon-fires flame 
high. 
As heroes, — nay, as demi-gods, — let Death 
Crown us with Cyprus wreaths; and from the 
strife 
Weary, but proud, shall we fall back, and cry, 
'^ Lo, we have found the pain that quickeneth ! " 



43 



Class Ode 



CLASS ODE 
Harvard Class Day, June 22, 1911 

^ INDLY Mother, to-day we would ask of 

^ thy grace 

^m Thy serene benediction once more; 
In the pride and the strength of our light- 
hearted youth, 

With a laugh we fling open the door. 
We have toiled in thy halls, we have dreamed in 
the dawn 

Of a day that is golden with mirth, 
Till, exultant, and free, and impatient we go 

To the strife that is shaking the earth. 

Yet through all the tumultuous noon of the years 

In our feverish hearts we shall know 
That thy hand is above us, benignant and calm, 

Unreluctant its boon to bestow. 
With the joy of our life, with the fire of our souls, 

May we keep man^s inheritance free, 
By the might of the Puritan^s martial emprise 

Consecrated, Mother, to thee. 



44 



For a Silver Wedding 



FOE A SILVEE WEDDING 
" Green Pastures," July 15, 1911 




^ ID-SUMMEE, and the month of dreams, 
Eare riot of fragrance, tangled net 
Of wild-rose bloom, clear crystal streams: 
The silver dragon-fly now gleams, 
Now flashes past; the swallow's jet 
And ashen wings dart to and fro. 
These drowsy afternoons aglow 
With mellow light are strangely sweet, 
x\nd passing fair, — bnt passing fleet. 

So are they now, and so were they 

A quarter-century ago, 

As they may tell who count that day 

The spring of new hopes — ^you who know 

Need not that my lips try to say 

The things that you have taught them; no, 

'Twere better I should hear the groom 

Eehearse the bride's attractiveness. 



For many years it has been a family custom to celebrate the wedding 
anniversary by reading A Mid-summer MghVs Dream and playing 
Mendelssohn's music. 

45 



For a Silver Wedding 

The bride, the groom's, and both confess 
They never saw a daintier room. 

A quarter-century! Less time 

Has oft sufficed to win a war, 

To " sprinkle smiling lands with gore," 

To Fame's most giddy height to climb. 

To pile a fortune, — to pile ten! 

Where are your kingdoms? Where your store? 

Your names upon the tongues of men? — 

Yes, battles you have won, and more 

Have overthrown than enemies; 

Have garnered wealth above the price 

Of rubies, living in the law 

Of kindness: you have toiled by night 

Not that your wisdom learn to awe, 

But to illumine, loving more 

The guerdon of a common task 

Than fame upon a lonely height. 

And you have risen also while 

It was yet night, with kindly smile 

Eeady to give, and not to ask. 

Sweet to the ear hath ever been 

The cadence of your violin, 

But sweeter far the silver tone 

(Fit symbol of a silver day) 

Of your soft voice, like music blown, 

46 



For a Silver Wedding 



Cecilia in the kitchen, — nay. 
Madonna of the Temple, you 
Who transform every common view. 

Such was the task the Puritan 
Conceived as his immortal plan, 
Scorning an easy victory. 
Prizing a larger destiny; 
Stern you may call him, but the sword 
Were not so keen, were it less stc. .od ; 
And shall a race of men achieve. 
Though in the heroes' measure sealed. 
Unless it bow down and believe. 
Pledging itself to serve the Lord? 

Mid-summer, and the month of dreams; 
Green pastures and still waters rest 
Silent athwart the level light. 
Silent, but from his hidden nest 
The sparrow lilts his sheer delight. 
Mid-summer, and mid-life, — to-day 
Just twenty-five years old, it seems 
You are scarce older than your sons. 
Who rise once more to call you blest. 

On, ever on, the hour-glass runs; 
Mid-summer passes, — could it stay ? 
47 



For a Silver Wedding 

Dusk hovers, harbinger of night. 

Titania is abroad; hark! hear 

The nmrmnr of her wings, the light, 

The airy fall of fairy feet! 

Good Eobin, hither! Oberon, 

Come, squeeze the little western flower 

Into the lovers' eyes; now none 

But they can feel its magic power. 

For they can see high visions clear. 

The quarter-century's retreat 

Again rolled back, their children's sons 

Thronging to bless and to revere. 

Dream on, ye young, thrice happy ones; 

Happy in this, that as you dream 

So day brings forth, and that you deem 

No happiness a greater goal 

Than love triumphant in the soul. 

'' Come, Philomel, with melody. 
And sing in your sweet lullaby." 



48 



A Steamer-Letter 



A STEAMEE-LETTEE 



TO H. E. G. AND H. C. G. 



'(^i.^.!^'^vri 



SHIP weighs anchor with the swelling 
tide; 
Brave flannt and flutter of gay flags, 
and hearts 
Not willing or unwilling quite, a-beat 
With pain and pleasure mingled; faces spied 
And lost, — and so the mammoth ship departs, 
Threading the labyrinth amid the fleet. 

Days fly; in foreign port the ship lies to, 
Filling her hold with precious box and bale. 
With merchandise of every land and name. 
Till she is called to venture forth anew, 
When she unfolds again her straining sail. 
Eager to go, as eagerly she came. 

Lo, ships fly forth, and swallows, yet return again ; 
Shall you send forth your son, and seek for him 
in vain? 



September 14, 1911. 



49 



TRANSLATIONS 



Ecstasy 



ECSTASY 

From the French of Victor Hugo 

LONE by the waves on a star-lit night, 
Not a cloud in the sky, not a sail in 
sight. 

Beyond the dull earth my vision aspires; 
And forest and hill seem everywhere 
To question through the murmuring air 

The ocean waves, the heaven's fires. 

And the stars of gold, that numberless glow. 
With a thousand voices, now loud, now low; 
Sing as they bend their crowns of fire. 
And the blue waves rolling in wild unrest 
Sing as they turn the foam of their crest. 

It is the Lord's, the Lord's empire! 



=a 



53 



From the French of Ronsard 



PEOM THE FEENCH OF EOISTSAED 



H, take this rose, dear, lovable like thee, 
Wiio art a rose 'mid fairest roses blown, 
A flower 'mid the flowers freshest 
grown, 
Whose fragrance ravisheth the whole of me. 
Oh, take this rose, and with it may there be 
Within thy breast my wingless heart alone; 
A hundred cruel wounds that it hath known 
Have not impaired its loyal fealty. 
The rose's fate from mine thus differeth. 
For one sun sees the rose's birth and death; 
A thousand suns have seen the lasting sway 
Of my love, born to meet no dying hour. 
Ah! would to God that such love, like a flower. 
For me had blown and died in but one day. 



54 



To Leuconoe 



HOEACE, ODES I, 11 

Tu ne quaesieris {scire nefas). 

SK not, forbidden knowledge, when the 
gods decree 

That yon and I mnst die, Leuconoe, 
Or strive Chaldean lore to learn. Do thon 
Submit, grant Jove more winters, or if now 
This be thy last, when yon wave-hollowed reef 
Shatters the surf. Be wise, and drink ; life's brief. 
E'en while we speak flies grudging time; away 
With future hopes; enjoy the present day. 



55 



Palinode 



HOEACE, ODES I, 16 
matre pulchra filia pulchrior 



^ AIR mother's fairer daughter, in what way 
It please you, pray consume my cruel 

verse, 



With fire or mighty sea. 

Not Phoebus, not Cybele, at her shrine, 
Or Bacchus stirs the frenzied votary so 
To rave, as gloomy wrath. 

It mocks the sword, the wrecking sea, the flame. 
Great Jove's own thundering bolt; they say that 

when 
Prometheus to the clay 

Was forced to add a part of every beast. 
He took an angry lion's heart and placed 
It in the frame of man. 

'Twas madness slew Thyestes, and laid low 
High cities for the haughty foe to plough. 
Ah, curb the angry mind! 



56 



Palinode 



He, too, my youthful spirits once provoked 
To write those swift iambics in my wrath, 
But now I seek redress. 

Deign to forgive me and give back thy heart, 
And I will write again to thee, my friend. 
But only gentle lays. 



57 



To Asterie 



TWO YEESIONS OF HOEACE, 0DE8 III, 7 

Quid fles, Asterie, quern tihi candidi 
I 



HY weep thy love, Asterie, star-bright 
maid? 
Thy ever-faithful Gyges will return 
To thee, enriched with long Bithynian trade. 
When first the fair spring breezes blow astern. 

Driven by the tempest-winds to Oricum, 
After the goat's wild constellation set. 
He lies awake o' nights, all cold and numb. 
And with a flood of tears his cheeks are wet. 

And that too while his love-lorn hostess sends 
Her envoy, skilled in countless wiles, to say 
That Chloe sighs, poor thing, and that she spends 
Herself with fire like thine, and wastes away. 

He tells of Proteus, how the credulous king 
By his false-hearted wife of old was won 
With empty charges, ere his time, to bring 
To death the all too chaste Bellerophon; 



58 



To Asterie 

He tells him then of Peleus, all but slain 
Because he chastely fled her that had been 
His hostess in Magnesia; in such vein 
The rogue rehearses tales that teach to sin. 

But all in vain: for deafer than the isle 
Of rock-bound Icarus, unspoiled he hears 
The lure. — And for thy part, care not to smile 
On friend Enipeus more than right appears, 

Though there is none like him that guides his steed 
Beheld of men upon the Martian Field, 
And none that with his might and agile speed 
Swims down the Tuscan river, sinew-steeled. 

At night-fall lock thy house, and peer not down 
Street-ward, to hear him pipe his plaintive trill; 
And if he oft-times brood upon thy frown, 
And call thee cruel maid, be cruel still. 



59 



To Estelle 




II 



ON'T cry, Estelle; why, Jim is safe, 
And soon as ever spring progresses, 
He'll come, and bring yon back a lot 
Of those Parisian dresses. 

Yon see, in Chelsea he got stnck. 
After the ice had blocked the ferry; 
And he's jnst crying his two eyes ont. 
(Cold winter, this? Yes, very.) 

And what d'yon think? Why, over there 
His landlady is simply crazy; 
She's got a crush on him, and says, 
" Land sakes, ain't Jim a daisy ! " 

Yes, and she talks a lot about 
Her sentiments and injured feelings; 
She heaves a sigh ; " Men always were 
Given to double dealings." 



60 



To Estelle 



Declares she's like the folks you read 
About in magazines, like Sadie 
Who in the moving-picture show 
Proves she's a perfect lady. 

But he's all safe, and just as deaf 
To her as any untipped waiter. 
But say, Estelle, you'd better be 
A tiny bit sedater. 

Young Hudson's quite a swell, of course; 
On Soldier's Field and on the River 
He beats the Dutch; but don't you care 
For him a single sliver. 

Don't go out nights, or listen to 
His graphophone ; just let it bellow : 
And if he plagues you, speak right out, 
" I've got another fellow." 



61 



To a Jar of Wine 




HOEACE, ODES, 111, 31 

O nata mecum consule Manlio 

HOII faithful jar of treasured Massic wine, 
Whose birth-day fell in Manlius^ days, 
like mine. 

What boots it whether sighs you bring, or mirth. 
Or brawls and foolish loves, or sleep divine? 

Come down, and grace the feast we hold to-night, 
What'er betide, full worthy of the right; 

For friend Corvinus bids you broach for him 
Mellower wines than ever came to light. 

For he, though steeped in all Socratic lore. 
Is not so rude as good wine to abhor; 

They say old Cato, too, long-faced enough, 
With pure wine oft warmed up in days of yore. 

'Tis thou that oft dost spur the callous mind; 
Thou dost strip off the sage's cares, and find 



62 



To a Jar of Wine 

His hidden counsels, with the jovial god 
Who gently looseth all the knots that bind. 

Thou dost restore to anxious minds their trust; 
Thou bringest plenty to the poor man's crust, — 
They drink, and then to wrath of crowned kings 
Or armed men they cringe not in the dust. 

Aye, Liber, laughing Venus, and her bands 
Of Graces, loth to break their twining hands. 

And living torches shall prolong thy cheer. 
Till Phoebus routs the stars to distant lands. 




To the Roman People 



HORACE, EPODE XVI 

Altera jam teritur hellis civilibus aetas 

OW is a new generation 

In civil war wasting away, 
And Eome by the weight of her power 

Is rushing headlong to decay. 
Her whom the neighboring Marsians 

Could never avail to throw down, 
Nor threatening Porsena's cohorts 

From many a Tuscany town, 
ISTor Capua's emulous valor, 

Nor Spartacus, keen in the fight, 
Nor the false Allobrogian chieftain, 

Found treacherous unto his plight. 
Nor the fiercest of Germany's children, 

Blue-eyed, in the battle could tame. 
Nor the terrible dread of our fathers, 

Detested Hannibal's name, — 
Our impious, base generation 

With curse of our kin will despoil. 
And again will the beasts of the forest 

Prowl over the Roman soil. 



64 



To the Roman People 

Alas! the barbarian victor 

Will tread on our ash-burned roofs, 
And far through the streets of the city 

Will clatter the cavalry's hoofs. 
The bones of Quirinus long guarded 

From sun and from breath of the wind 
An insolent stranger will scatter, 

(Alack for the vision unkind!) 
Perchance the whole nation may question, 

Or all ye, her worthier part. 
What counsel may speediest rid us 

Of evils that gnaw at her heart. 
N'o counsel is better to follow 

Than mine that I utter to-day : 
As the doom-stricken state of Phocaeans 

Abandoned their meadows for aye. 
The gods and the hearts of their fathers, 

The fanes with their pillars and floors, 
And left them the lone habitation 

Of ravening wolves and of boars. 
Let us wander abroad through the desert 

Wherever our footsteps may fall. 
Or where the bold African breezes, 

Or South oversea the winds call. 
How say ye? Or has any Eoman 

A worthier action to urge? 
Why delay while the omens are timely 

To embark on the beckoning surge? 
65 



To the Roman People 

But let us take oath in this manner: 

" Only when boulders shall rise 
From the ocean^, and swim in the billows, 

Then shall we turn backward our eyes; 
Then only with minds not unwilling 

Shall we turn our galleys toward home, 
When the peaks of Matinian mountains 

The Po shall submerge with its foam; 
Or the Apennine heights shall rush headlong 

To plunge in the ocean their dust, 
And an unheard-of longing shall mingle 

The beasts in unnatural lust. 
Then shall the stag and the tigress 

Eejoice in a marvellous love, 
And the kite shall enjoy the affection 

Of many a timorous dove. 
Then shall the herds become trustful. 

And dread the fierce lion no more, 
And the he-goat shall lose all his roughness, 

And leap in the brine from the shore.'' 
This let us say, and whatever 

May cut off a longed-for retreat; 
And let us launch forth all together. 

And flee from this curse-riven seat, — 
Or all of her worthier people. 

Apart from the dull-minded rout. 
And let lie on his ill-omened pillow 

The craven and spiritless lout. 
66 



To the Roman People 

But ye who have still manly courage, 

Away with this womanish wail, 
And beyond the Etrurian shore-line 

Fly on with your bellying sail. 
For us doth the wandering Ocean 

Await, and the Fields of the Blest; 
Let us seek for the rich-flowered Meadows, 

The Islands that lie to the West; 
Where the earth of itself, without tilling, 

Brings forth a full harvest each year. 
And the vineyards unpruned bear the vintage 

To men who live free from all fear; 
Where the branch of the olive buds ever, 

And still the fig's low-hanging boughs 
That never man's hand hath engrafted. 

The dark fruit with beauty endows. 
From the hollow-limbed oak oozes honey. 

And down from the mountainous steeps. 
With the laughter of runnels light-footed. 

The murmuring rivulet leaps. 
There do the she-goats unbidden 

At milking-time throng to the pail, 
And friendly the herds ever brimming 

Their udders bring home down the vale. 
Nor at night doth the bear from the forest 

With growling send fear to the fold, 
Nor hisses with venomous vipers 

The heaving and high-swelling mould. 
67 



To the Roman People 

No terrible breath of contagion 

Is striking the cattle with blight, ■ 

And no star with its furious parching 

The herds in the pasture doth smite. 
We fortunate sailors shall wonder 

That down on the bountiful plains 
No watery tempest in torrents 

Sweeps on from the East with its rains; 
That the seedlings, though swelling with richness 

Are burned not among the dry sods: 
For the rain and the drought are both tempered 

By him who rules over the gods. 
The Argonaut band sped not hither, 

Embarked in their galley of pine, 
Nor the Colchian woman unblushing 

Fared hither across the deep brine: 
Nor the venturesome sailors of Sidon 

Trimmed sail for that far-distant land, 
Nor worn by disaster and hardship 

Ulysses set foot with his band. 
For Jupiter set those fair meadows 

Apart for a virtuous race. 
When with alloy of bronze he had mingled 

The golden age, and in his grace 
He hardened the ages with iron: 

From them, if ye heed me aright. 
For all men who are noble and pious 

Is granted a prosperous flight. 
68 



DE6 29 1911 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



jAN f ^^^2 



LIBRARY OF CONfiRPQc 

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